


Simon Snow's Not-So-Merry Christmas

by Clxarke



Category: Carry On - Fandom, fangirl - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Humor, Christmas, Domestic, M/M, Penelope is the best, Simon & Baz POV, Snowbaz Christmas, Was originally fluff but my heart is pure sin so now its angst with a happy ending, first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 04:11:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5524952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clxarke/pseuds/Clxarke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon's first Christmas spent away from Watford was supposed to be perfect. </p><p>Penny and Baz with him. His very own apartment to celebrate in. His own Christmas tree (not just the talking one in the Watford common area). He had everything he needed and it was going to be perfect. </p><p>Until it all went to shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simon Snow's Not-So-Merry Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This work was written for my Tumblr Secret Santa: ShellBerrySoup [.tumblr.com]  
> I really hope you like it! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I'm not Rainbow Rowell or Cath Avery so I own nothing but plot and a few nameless characters. 
> 
> Warnings: Spoilers for Carry On! Mild Language! Angst with a happy ending!

**Simon:**

  

 For one thing, I’m sick.

 

 “You can’t be sick!” Penny had shouted two days prior as I proceeded to blow my nose for the fortieth time that morning. “Its nearly Christmas!”

 “I don’t think my sickness cares very much about the calendar.” My voice came out gruff and nasally. Penny jerked away when I tossed a used tissue into the rubbish bin.

“Gross.” She commented, before sanitizing the entire apartment. Twice. It didn’t make me feel very good about myself. I don’t think she cared.

 Baz stopped by that day as well.

 "Shit.” He'd commented upon seeing me sprawled out on the couch in my sickened state. “You look awful, Snow.”

 “Thanks.” I'd said, turning up the volume so the sounds of Dalek war cries would quench the words of my annoying boyfriend.

 He’d sighed and stuck a few more presents under the tree. “You’d better get well soon. I will _not_ be kissing you under any mistletoe until you do.”

 As if I wasn’t suffering enough.

 

 That reminds me! Another of the many issues I’m facing is the goddamn Christmas tree.

 

 It was _great_ the first day we bought it! And the second day! And the third!

 On the fourth, it went up in flames. Literally.

 “What the _Hell_ , Simon!” Penny had cried, outraged and mortified.

 “I don’t know!” I clamored, staggering back.

 All I’d done was switch on the lights after I finished wrapping them around the base! I just wanted to see how they looked before we decorated! Then WHOOSH! As if I still had my magic and had _gone off_ on the pine needles!

Penny grabbed her wand from her bed stand and rushed back into the room.

 _ **"Its raining, its pouring!"**_ she shouted, dousing the tree (and me) with a heavy stream of water.

 “Can you fix it?” I asked a little later, wringing out my shirt and collecting the water in the sink.

 “Unfortunately, no.” Penny sighed, mopping up the residue char and mild flooding. “You can ask Baz to bring his wand when he comes over, but my magic’s been running ridiculously low this week.”

Our tree from that point on was both soggy and burnt to a crisp.

 

 Sickness and a crispy Christmas tree? _No problem_ , I thought, _I can deal with it!_

But then things got _worse_.

 

 My new University friends decided to drop by a day early for some Christmas carols and spiked eggnog. This would have been fine. I’d been begging Baz and Penny to meet them for weeks!

 Unfortunately, their meeting wasn’t under the best circumstances. Meaning, Baz was involved.

 Baz, my overprotective boyfriend. In a bad mood. Around strangers.

(I still cringe)

I love him to death (bad metaphor), don’t get me wrong, but he’s still the same Baz that thought we were going to have to make each other miserable for five years, and eventually, _kill_ each other (and that was when he had a _crush_ on me).

 He didn’t go into too much detail when describing the incident to me the day after (which, alone, was terrifying). But the scene basically played out that: Baz, in a fit of confusion and fear, saw the carolling gaggle of college students barging into my apartment as a _threat_. Long story short, my new college friends ran out screaming.

 

No one was hurt, he _promised_ , but its still going to be a lot to explain once I go back after the holidays.

 So, I might have just lost a few normal friends.

 Could it get any worse?

 Answer: Yes.

 

 Skip to _right now_.

 I lost Baz’s gift.

 

 I _swear_ I hid it behind the clock on the mantelpiece, like, four days ago! No one’s cleaned the _mantle!_ (Besides Penny, but she says she didn’t touch it!) I’ve been searching my room for hours; checking behind every piece of furniture and inside any possible crevice it could have fallen into. No dice.

 The thing about this gift is that there is literally no other like it in the _entire_ _world_. Penny and I found it a year ago, going through her dad’s attic for a greater magickal purpose. This year, remembering it, I'd asked politely and was able to take it off their hands. I've been impossibly eager to give Baz the best present possible.

 I’m literally and metaphorically hitting my head against a wall right now. Its Christmas Eve and Baz is going to be over in five minutes. He’s spending the night here, since we’ve been putting all the presents under _my_ tree (I don't think he has a tree). A sleepover seemed like the only logical plan of action. (Penny joked about braiding Baz’s hair, but she might have been serious.)

 And now, I am _majorly_ screwed.

 Unless...

 

 “Penny?”

 

  **Baz:**

 

I _hate_ snow (the substance, not the person.)

I may be flammable, but there is something about the cold that irritates me to no end. I like to be warm. All this white shit on the ground is making it a _little_ difficult to walk to Snow and Bunce’s apartment. (Not that I’m walking all the way there. I took public transportation. Only an idiot would walk across town in this weather.) I presume Snow is frantically getting things prepared, or mending something he broke a few seconds prior with that stupid look on his face.

I smile softly to myself.

 Despite my endless entertainment in watching him struggle on simple tasks, I feel horrible for the less then happy Christmas he’s been having. That incident with his college mates was a mistake on my part.

The tree incident? Also me.

I forgot to take off the brightening enchantment. I'd spelled it so I could _see_ while I was getting the tree inside. I should have known the  ** _You Might Even Say It Glows…_** spell would render an object more likely to catch fire. (Yes, I made the tree glow. I was much too preoccupied to reach the light switch, all right?) It seems that guilt is not absent from the itinerary this holiday season.

 I hop up the steps, hurrying toward the warm interior.

That feeling ignites again. The annoying one that makes me yearn to hold Snow in my arms and breath him in. To kiss the mole on his neck, swallow his sigh, and catch his smile between my lips. This need used to be much more annoying back when we weren’t dating (back when we weren't _friends)_. Now it was almost too easy, being able to kiss him when I want to. (I am _not_ complaining.)

 Upon opening the door (I have a key now), I encounter a peculiar sight.

 “Snow? Bunce? Are you using a _high powered tracking spell_ in your _living_   _room?_ ” I ask, my friends wide eyed and gaping at me from the centre of the room beside an ugly, scorched tree.

 “… Maybe?” Snow suggests slowly, looking to Penelope for guidance. Penelope’s eyes close, calling to a higher power for strength.

 “Simon lost something.” She informs me bluntly, returning to the glowing trail coming from her wand.

 “I can see _that_.” I reply. I unstrap my boots. “Would you like my assistance?”

 “No!” Snow exclaims a little too enthusiastically. I quirk an eyebrow. “I mean…” He sniffles, reminding me of his cold. He's so adorably pathetic when it comes to common illnesses. “You don’t have to. Just… give us a minute.”

 I spread my hands in a soothing fashion. “Fine. I’ll just go to make tea.”

 Snow nods, seeming relieved. I notice the bags under his eyes and the weight tugging on his shoulders. My heart aches a moment, stung. He looks miserable. I hate to see him like this.

 I open the cupboard to fetch the tea when something solid falls and hits me square in the face.

 “Shit!” I snap. The object hits the floor with a thud. Blinking to clear away instinctual tears, I glance down at the object. It’s a gift, wrapped in silvery paper and a blue bow. “Snow?” I call out. “I think I may have found your missing object.”

 Snow and Penelope come skidding towards the kitchenette.

 I bend over and pick it up. “A present, per chance?”

 Snow’s face relaxes. “Yes, thank _God_. Where was it?”

 “Up with the tea.” I point.

 Penelope smacks Snow upside the head. “Useless.” She mutters. “And a waste of magic too.” With that, she stalks over to the couch and lies down, massaging her temple.

 I glance down at the gift. “It’s addressed to me.” I say in surprise. Snow reddens considerably. “Is _that_ why you were freaking out?” he nods. “You shouldn’t have worried so much.”

 He shrugs. “Its important. You can open it now, if you want.”

 My eyebrows shoot up. “But Christmas is tomorrow?”

 He shrugs again (I swear, no one on earth shrugs as much as this boy).

 I nearly shake my head and put it under the charred Christmas tree, but something inside of me tugs my hands toward the ribbon.

 Inside is a scrapbook. It’s smaller in size then most books, but the old, fading pictures make up for it.

 “Is… Is this my family?” My voice catches in a few places. Snow nods.

 The pages are yellowing, some in black and white and some in sepia. As I flip through, the features become more and more familiar.

 “Where did you get this?” I mutter.

 “Penelope’s dad has an archive.” Snow supplies. “Records, timeless artefacts.”

 "No one in my family owns a collection this extensive.” I marvel. “This belongs in a museum.”

 “I _would_ have put it in a museum, but there are a few pictures that I thought you might like to see first. Then you can decide where it goes.”

 Before I can ask what Snow’s blabbering about— I see them.

 My grandmother, in her fading grey dress and blue sun hat, waving at my grandfather. It’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her. In all the portraits we own my relatives are stern and lifeless, more like mannequins then people. The Pitch Family has prided themselves in stoicism. These photos would have been burned.

 The next page is my mother.

I suck in a sharp breath. Snow’s hand is on my arm. I don’t remember him stepping closer.

She’s wearing the official robes of Watford, a proud, tightlipped smile on her face. The next photo is of her and my father, sitting next to a cradle, their bright eyes trained on a newborn baby inside.

 Snow brushes away a tear from my cheek. I didn’t even notice it falling.

 “I…” I don’t know what to say. I look over at him. Then I pull him close. His body envelopes me like a security blanket. I wrap myself in his warmth. “Thank you.” I whisper into his neck.

 I feel his hand rub soothingly up and down my spine. I’ve never felt this wide a combination of sadness and content in such a short timespan.

 I pull away, some dignity preserved, and set the book down on the counter.

 Then I kiss him.

 “Wait!” He pushes me away stubbornly. “I’m still sick!”

 “Vampires don’t get sick. I'll be fine.” I dismiss, pulling him back in.

 “Okay first of all, thats _bollocks—"_ I interrupt him, catching his bottom lip between my own. _"_ and!” He pulls away again. “There’s no mistletoe!”

 I sigh, glowering pointedly. “Since when have I _ever_ needed the encouragement of mistletoe to kiss you?”

 He pauses to think for a moment. ( _Don’t strain yourself, Snow_.) “Point taken.”

 He draws me in closer.

 He smells like pine needles and campfire smoke. 

 What an idiot.

 

 

**Simon:**

 

My best friends are here. Baz’s present is found and received. My cold is nearly gone. The apartment is still standing. The man I love is in my arms.

 

It might not be picturesque, but it finally feels like Christmas.

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Simon Snow's Not-So-Merry Christmas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9318701) by [akikotree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akikotree/pseuds/akikotree)




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